Paper Flowers
by ShatteredPrisms
Summary: Jessica Marzia Zanetti (that's Jess to you) is a seventeen-year-old high school senior in the town of Russellville, Arkansas. And we're going to explore the grief, pain, laughter, and love directly caused by the loss of her mother. Well, that, and an alien robot or two.
1. Gone

"Pfft."

I rubbed my eyes. When you get no sleep at night, it makes you a bit tired in the daytime. Especially when your math teacher won't stop droning on about freaking exponential functions or something.

Beside me, Samantha was giggling like crazy. I nudged her with my foot. Honestly. Teachers know when you're texting. No one just looks down at their crotch and smiles for no reason. Well, most people don't.

She gave me a look, but slipped her iPhone into her purse and dropped the bag to the floor. Good. The last thing I needed was for her to get her phone taken up and me not have any way to contact her. Mr. Gentry's phone made a beeping noise, and he picked it up. There was a moment where no one but the person on the other end of the line spoke.

"Oh. Ok, I'll send her down." I perked up. Someone was getting out of class. "Jess, report to Mrs. Smith, please." I almost laughed out loud. Mrs. Smith (AKA Mrs. Agatha, the Sunday School teacher) was the attendance officer, and her office was on the other side of the campus. Mom must be signing me out.

"Yessir." I slid my papers into my notebook, and then grabbed my bag and headed for the door. The room had erupted in quiet chatter, and just as I reached the door, I heard Mr. Gentry call on Sam for the answer to question number seventeen.

Then the heavy door slammed behind me, and all I had heard was her stuttering, "Um, seven?"

As I walked down the hall, my spirits slowly disentigrated. There was a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, like suddenly I was empty and hollow. For a second I was afraid I would puke. I pushed on the door of the main building and stumbled into the sunlight. It was chilly to be April, and I could practically taste rain on the wind.

I wrapped my arms around myself and pulled my sweater tighter around me. I was under a black metal canopy that ran to the Attendance Office and the Principal's and Vice Principals' offices, but if it began to rain it would blow right under the roof.

I walked a bit faster, and made it all the way to the Attendance Office before it started to drizzle water from the gray sky. I pulled the glass door open and walked straight past the In-School-Suspension room, past the Principal's office, and into the smallest room at the end of the hall.

Mrs. Agatha sat behind her desk, gray hair pulled back in a bun, as always. Little pieces that were starting to come down blew in the wind created by the fan on the corner of her desk. "Hi, Mrs. Agatha! You wanted to see me?"

I waited for her to pull out the sign-out sheet, hand me her old purple pen with the bouncing flower on the end, do the little thing where she flicks at the longer hair strands coming out of her bun. But she didn't. She stayed comletely stock-still, wringing her hands and turning her knuckles white.

"Yes. Sit down, please, Jess." I felt confusion dominate my facial expression, and I eased down in one of the older-than-dirt office chairs. A puff of dust flew out of the cushion. "Dear, I . . . I got a disturbing phone call a minute ago. I was asked to deliver this news to you personally."

I nodded. The feeling of dread from earlier was growing rapidly. I gripped the wooden arms of the chair.

"Jessica, I'm so sorry. Your mother . . . was in a car accident. They told me she didn't suffer at all, that it was instant-"

Mrs. Agatha Smith, the nice Attendance Officer that had been one of my best friends my entire life, was suddenly blurry and contorted. I gaped at her like an idiot, and was aware of the dread, fear, and anguish threatening to consume me. I wished it would, so I wouldn't have to face this reality.

"No." It came out as a raspy whisper.

"I'm so, so sorry, Jessica. Your mother was one of my best friends, and I loved her very much. I can't imagine what you're going through."

I sniffled, my entire body convulsing, and then I hiccupped. I felt her embrace me, and I knew she was doing her best to console me. But I didn't want her matronly affection. I wanted my mother's matronly affection. I wanted her to burst through the door and laugh and ask why I was so upset.

But I was just a grain of sand that the universe deemed unworthy of granting me what I wanted. I sniffled, hiccupped. I don't know how long I was there, but I knew I had to move and do something. Anything. I needed to be distracted.

"Would you like for me to pull Samantha out of class? She can take you home," Mrs. Agatha offered. I nodded, knowing my voice was useless. I listened as she picked up the phone and spoke to Mr. Gentry, as if from the other side of a really long tunnel.

"Hi, Norm. It's Agatha again. Can you send Samantha McGregory up here? She and Jessica won't be back to class today." There was a pause. "No, they aren't in trouble- Just send her up." There was a sharp edge to her voice. I'd never heard Mrs. Agatha get short with anyone.

I hoped that Samantha wouldn't take too long. That wish was granted; not even a minute had passed before she appeared in the doorway. "Hey, Mrs. Agatha. What's going on?" I stood up on shaky legs. "Jess? Jesus, what happened?"

I shook my head, waiting to have my breakdown until we at least got back to one of our houses. Before I shoved her out the door, I hugged Mrs. Agatha. She patted my back, and she said something like "Take care of her" to Samantha.

Then I snagged Sam's arm and pulled her past the principal's office and the ISS room, and back out into the cool Oregon weather. It was raining. The sky was mourning the loss of a beautiful soul. I almost couldn't feel it soaking through my clothes.

"What happened, Jess?" Sam's voice was uncharacteristically soft. She let me lean on her, and practically dragged me to her car.

"She's dead," I replied in a dry voice. "I lost her. That isn't fair, Sam. I lost her." She gasped, as if everything clicking into place was painful. She opened the passenger side door of her red Sebring and I climbed in.

I watched her cross in front of the car and climb in the driver's seat. "Where do you want to go? My parents are at work, and it's only . . ." I heard her check her phone. "It's only twelve thirty. You want to get some lunch or something?"

I wanted my mother to not be dead. But I didn't say that. Instead I nodded, even though I knew I wouldn't eat anything. Samantha clicked her seatbelt into place and I did the same, and then we were off. She navigated the parking lot expertly, and soon we were driving on Main Street.

"We can go anywhere you want, Jess." I nodded as if I understood. The backs of my eyes hurt.

Sam sighed, and I felt the car stop at a street light. She stayed silent. She didn't do well with displays of emotion, and neither did I. This was one thing her killer confidence and cockiness couldn't help. I was aware of us pulling into a Wendy's, and she ordered us both bacon cheeseburgers and a chocolate frosty. We always just shared a drink or ice cream or whatever; it was cheaper that way, and we'd known each other since like fourth grade.

The lady at the drive-in window giggled when we pulled up. "Cutting class?" she asked in a wistful voice. I saw Samantha shake her head ominously, and pay for our food. The woman returned to the window with both a strange expression and our food. "Have a blessed day, come again soon."

Samantha put the Frosty in the cup holder and plopped the food in my lap.

Despite myself, it smelled really good. I'd skipped breakfast.

Damn my appetite.

I watched the road go by in a blur. It could've been either hours or minutes that went by and I wouldn't have known the difference. Soon I felt Sam poke me, and I realized we were in her garage. Her parents' cars were gone, so it was safe to assume we'd have the house to ourselves. "C'mon, chica. Let's go." I mashed the button to release my seatbelt and stepped out, Wendy's bag in hand.

She led me into the house, and to the dining room table. My laptop was perched on the edge from the sleepover two nights ago. I wished I'd have known then. I would have stayed with Mom that night, held onto her and watched every sappy movie she wanted to see.

_But you didn't know. And she's gone._

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><p><strong>Whatcha think? I sort of like it, though this is sorta . . . deep. : Lol. Anywho, fave, review, etc. as you please. Feel free to message me anytime, I don't bite, I promise!**

**Sorta. XD**

**TAKE THE POLL ON MY PROFILE. PLEASE. LEGIT.**

**That's it for now, I think. I'll introduce a few more characters in the next chapter or so. And a little surprise or two. ;)**

_**"This is Major Tom to Ground Control . . ."**_

**~Kat**


	2. FuneralJust Another Day

**Hello, my fabulous readers!**

**Many, many thanks to those who are reading, and baring with me on this! It's my first attempt at a depressing beginning. **

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><p>The flowers were pretty, though not as pretty as their natural sisters.<p>

I studied them with a strange passion. They weren't real, that much was evident. They were an unnatural white color, and made from a cheap fabric. I quickly reeled in my thoughts. The woman holding the flowers was our next-door neighbor, an elderly lady named Maude. Her husband stood, silent and still, nearby. She was fanning her face in an exasperated way, as if she were very upset.

Yeah, well, me too.

I glanced down at my own bouquet of red roses. They were real. I'd picked them from Mom's little garden behind our house. I remembered waking up some mornings and hearing her cursing the frost, saying it would kill her "ruby flowers."

I didn't hear much of what was said, but I did know when it was my time to toss on the flowers. When I did, I bowed my head and took a deep, shaky breath so I could whisper to the casket, "I love you. Please don't forget me."

Then I returned to my place next to Samantha. She tossed on a daisy. Mom had told her that her favorite color was yellow, and so Sam got her yellow flowers.

Then there were the speeches. I listened as the pastor spoke of how my mother had touched everyone she'd met in the deepest and most profound ways. Then my mom's friend Gina gave a short speech and offered me her deepest condolances. Same for Mrs. Agatha. As she passed me, she patted me on the arm and whispered, "I'm rooting for you."

Then it was my turn.

I took a deep breath, and wasn't surprised when it caught in my throat. The mass of black moved aside so I could stand on the little temporary platform. I had this speech memorized well.

"My mother was one of the few people I've ever met to have actually had a kind heart." I paused, feeling tears searing the back of my throat. "I'm not saying we didn't disagree on things. Because we did. A lot." There were a few weak laughs from the audience.

"And I loved her more than anyone could even fathom. She was my best friend, and now she's gone. But I'm never going to remember her by . . . this. I'm going to remember her by the beautiful, insane, Italian, cursing mess that she was, and everything she ever did for everyone. I hope that's how you'll all remember her.

"Thank you." My voice broke on the last word, but I didn't care. I stepped off my soap box, let the tears spill over my cheeks, and let Samantha wrap her arm around my shoulders. I wanted to curl up in a ball and hibernate until whenever I stop hurting.

The next thing I remember is leaning on Sam and walking away from the cemetery. "What now?" she asked. I sighed, and couldn't stand the answer to that question. I knew that I'd be looking to the past for a while, and remembering and grieving, but at the moment, I knew the future could very well be . . . sucky.

"I don't know." And I didn't. It was up to the judge now. My custody papers were being looked over and modified as we spoke, but I had no idea what was going on. Mrs. Agatha, maybe? Or . . . no, my mother was an only child, and her parents had died before I was born. I didn't know who my father was. Mom had always vowed to tell me when I was eighteen. I guess we ran out of time on that one.

I hunched my back against the wind and slid into the back seat of Sam's parent's Camry. I'd been staying every night with Sam since Tuesday. She didn't mind, and Helen and Eric (Samantha's parents) insisted they didn't.

I felt like a burden anyway.

Eric got in the front seat, and cranked the car. I licked my lips and jerked my bag out from underneath me, pulling out my phone. I tapped the screen a few times, and put in my earbuds.

"_Stay low,_

_Soft, dark, and dreamless_

_Far beneath my nightmares and loneliness._

_I hate me for breathing without you."_

Of course. God forbid there was a fucking happy song playing.

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><p><em>And you run and you run to catch up with the sun<em>

_But it's sinking,_

_Racing around to come up behind you again_

_The sun is the same in a relative way _

_But you're older, shorter of breath and one day closer to death._

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><p>Breathe.<p>

_In, out, in, out, in, out. _

Now, get up, you damn lazy bum, and finish your paperwork.

I pushed myself up into a sitting position at my desk, and rubbed my face. The spreadsheet I had opened was full of the letters g, b, h, n, and m, and I was one-hundred percent positive I had those keys imprinted on my forehead.

Also, it was a miracle I wasn't swimming in my own drool.

It was dark in my apartment, mostly because I'd fallen asleep before the sun slid behind the horizon. Outside my window, I could see the tall buildings of Little Rock jutting into the sky.

Speaking of which. I glanced around the scattered envelopes and research papers on my desktop and singled one out. My rent was due. Maybe I could get an extension...?

Probably not. I'd been late on last month's rent, and Natalie was kind of pissed because of the McDonald's Incident.

Oh well, just another day in the life of a twenty-year-old orphan.

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><p><strong>Okay, I admit, this is a filler chapter. Sorry. Stuff has been crazy. Custody battle. 'Nuff said.<strong>

**Anyway. How's life for you guys? I'm working on more, I know, I know. My bad, I abandoned you. Pwease forgive me? :3**


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